


Subtle As Ever

by GameOnGiraffe (orphan_account)



Category: Voltron Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Asexual Pidge, Background Shallura (Voltron) - Freeform, Bisexual Lance, Cuban Lance, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff & Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gay Keith, Gifts, God bless this fandom, Homophobia, Keith's Is Still Kogane, Klance Focused, Lance's Surname is Sanchez, M/M, Pansexual Hunk, Pidge is feminine agender and no-one can convince me otherwise, Samoan Hunk, Shiro is worried, Strangers to Lovers, Telepathy Links, but that doesn't mean she's a girl, latino lance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-11-23 07:23:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11397810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/GameOnGiraffe
Summary: Each and every person has a soulmate. Connected by a gentle feeling, a person can subconsciously sense their soulmate's feelings, but to such a small degree it's ridiculous. Only when they consent to kiss their true soulmate do they realise.Most people are like this. Less than 20,000 of these people of earth are Gifted - they have a stronger connection. They can sense them in their dreams, which they always remember. Their pains, emotions and delights are more finely-tuned. It's rare, a genetic malfunction, but it's much coveted. Ways to create the Gift, and ways to remove it.And at the end of it all, caught up in problems, is Lance Sanchez, a Gifted student who wants to achieve his astrophysics degree just as much as he wants to find his soulmate. To top it all off, there's a festival failure, a desperate attempt to keep his Gift a secret from the college students around him, and a strictly homophobic father he's got a measure with because... These flashes of greyish-violet light he sees in his dreams are nothing to stifle the idea that his soulmate might not female.(Chapter 1 is a Warning)





	1. Warnings

Hey guys! Thank you for choosing to read this.

This is for my friend. Shout out to Endie and her fic 'Moonless'!

However, I have to put in a point that some of you might find troubling.

When I first thought of this, it was before Allura's age was revealed, and I won't turn her into Matt to stress how rare homosexual soulmate pairings are. So, Shallura is going to be in it. Don't hate on me for it - go read a different Kalnce fic. This fic is literally 90% Klance. Don't worry. Hunnay is in it too.

This is also going through the idea Lance was raised Roman Catholic. His father is very strictly homophobic. His mother doesn't mind as much. When Lance tells her, she doesn't threaten anything bad. Obviously Roman Catholicism doesn't mean the family is necessarily homophobic, Lance just had the bad luck to be born into one like it.

Thank you for reading this. Enjoy the fic!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance has to take care of himself, and whether it's migraine pills or something a lot deeper, he knows he's alone in college.

It could have seemed strange to anybody, but, to Lance Sanchez, it was the penultimate norm.

He had been thirteen when his family had found out. He wasn't so sure about his siblings - he had six when it started, and four of them were too young to understand. Hell, he hadn't been able to understand then. Falling asleep one day, and then waking up to tell him mom about it - perfect detail, flashes of crystalline violet colour and pangs of sudden, abrupt loneliness. So bad he would wake up crying, calling out to a person who he did not know existed.

"I'm worried about you, Lancias," his mother said one day at the breakfast table, ruffling his hair with a far look on her face. "These nightmares are scaring you, your schoolwork's being affected."

Lance groaned, and shrank away from her. At that time, he had been going through the mid-life crisis of being thirteen. Having nightmares since he was six, and only now would she act? Still, he insisted: "Mamá, I'm fine!"

"Lance, you've been having these nightmares since you were young," his mother fretted. "Mateo, do you think that they're distress calls from his soulmate?"

His father glanced at an irritated Lance from over his newspaper. He bit his lip. "Yes, I think you're right, Sana." He closed his newspaper with a sigh. "Great, Lance's soulmate, whoever she is, is weak. Perfecto."

"Not necessarily, Mateo," said Sana, shooting her husband a warning look as she adjusted the toast-grate. She sighed. Her son's soulmate might not be a 'she', either. "Lance, I'm taking drastic measures. I'm going to organise a brain-scan."

She tried to reach out to comfort her son, who had just given a huge squeak, and wriggled away from her grasp, gasping: "What?! Máma, I'm fine, no adayume!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Lance," she said crossly. "I'll find a clinic and get one for you in the next day or so."

And that had been that, no questions asked. True to her word, Sana Sanchez had taken her son to a scanning clinic the next day on case of emergency. Lance guessed it did count as emergency when he hadn't had an unbroken night for close to seven years.

He had hated it there. Men cloaked in white, blue facial covers strapped across their mouths like a monster in Doctor Who (they had always creeped him out). He remembered, quite clearly, leaning in a basin to retch after the dizzying effects of the scanner took hold. It had been like a flight helmet, lights popping in his head. A tantalising flash of lilac - again. Lance couldn't get rid of it.

Their brain-scans, although high-quality, were unable to find the object of the soulmate. They never could - it was considered a spiritual thing, rather than scientific, even though it was easily explained. The body had its own separate hormone, mutated by growth while still in the womb. However, someone else in this world, had this hormone too. Someone around your age, depending on how well-developed the hormone was. Bam - that's your soulmate.

It was simple, really.

Lance had returned from the scan clinic with his mother, who wouldn't say a word to him. He hadn't really understood, and spent most of the car journey home messing with the zipper on his old olive jacket and not looking up at all. Sana's mouth was tight, and the moment they arrived home, it was 'bed!', even though it was only half-seven. Lance began to get really worried, really quickly.

In the morning (after a night full of dull aches and splintering colour), he woke to find a small, brown-wrapped parcel on the chair next to his bed, and a note, written in neat Spanish:

'You'll need to read this. I hope you'll understand soon enough.'

He carefully undid the string and paper (Lance was all about tidiness and reusing things), and unwrapped a small, A5 paperback book, white and shiny, emblazoned with the green-lettered words 'Guide to the Gift'.

Lance had still been confused, feeling like everyone else knew, but were deliberately not letting him in. He'd heard people speak of the Gift before - he wasn't entirely sure what it was, or why his mom wanted him to read this book which seemed to be lettered for adults. He flipped through the pages, occasionally rewarded with a black-and-white diagram of psychotic patterns, like a typical optical illusion or a kaleidoscope, except printed in zebra tones. There were essays in there too - long ones, which he guessed were over sixty-thousand words long as they were written in text smaller than the rest.

He spent about half an hour flicking through the book, occasionally pausing to read a paragraph or decipher a diagram, before looking up and deciding to ask his mom what she wanted him to understand.

He hurried down to the table, where his elder brother and sister, Ricardo and Gabriela, were having a toast war, a common game in their family, in which the other tries to press a drawing into the toast and their opponent has to work out what the drawing was of. As both of them were awful artists, they probably were at the tiebreak of nil-nil.

"Mamá," Lance asked, "what's this book for?"

He showed her the copy of 'Guide to the Gift'. His mother was suddenly looking awkward. She had ridden on the assumption that her son knew what the Gift was. Clearly not.

"It's for... Informative reasons," she managed, wiping one of the plates she was washing with a soapy dishcloth.

Lance made a face. "Are you saying I have to do a book report?"

Sana swallowed. God, this was going to be hard.

"It's very hard to get copies of that book, Lance," she managed. "I had to surrender your prints from the brain-scan." Gabriela and Ricardo were looking at her, curious. She wished they wouldn't. "I've taken photos, but they're not as good. You need to read that book, okay? You don't have to do a report, but you do have to learn what the text says. You need to read it all the way through. I can read parts to you, as well, if you'd like. And Lance? Don't tell anyone you have the book."

"Okay..." Lance had never looked more confused. His face was tight from thinking, and his blue eyes were pinpointing everything in the room, trying to choose which would be best to focus on. "But why do I need to read it?"

"I told you, you need to learn what it says."

Lance shrugged. Then: "Should I get ready for school?"

" _No_!" Sana almost screeched, making all three of her children present flinch. She shook her head, trying to calm herself, before repeating, "No, Lance. You're not going to school today. We're going to do some research, okay?"

Lance blinked. _If it was worth missing school for, it must be serious_. "Is this about what happened yesterday?"

Sana managed a very, very small nod, but to Lance, craving an answer, it was clear as day.

"I don't think I like the results, whatever they were," he said, in a small voice.

Sana felt like she was about to cry. She smothered her son in a hug, and he didn't fight it. They had to get through this together.

"You can go back to school soon, Lance," she promised. "When you really know."

* * *

 

The rest of the day was spent in lazy cuddles on Lance's bed.

However, he still felt like his mom was tense, despite her many reassurances that it was fine, she was fine, he was fine. A lot of it was trying to battle through the first chapter of the book - it was definitely written for adults, which made his mom curse, muttering about how serious the idea was that they got a child into their new lifestyle as quick as possible. Lance heard some words he was sure his mom wasn't supposed to say in front of her children.

Nevertheless, they tried, and his mom kept a sad smile on her face all through it.

"Uh... It is often the... feeling based on knowing something... that feels far away couldn't be - be closer," Lance recited. "Mamá, what is it?"

She sighed. "I can't tell you. It's too hard."

Anger flared in the pit of his stomach, like a dozen fiery snakes were writhing there. And he had had enough.

"Too HARD?!" he demanded. "I have no idea what's going on, and you say it's hard for YOU?! What am I meant to do?!"

Sana felt like she was crumbling under her son's justified anger. His dark blue eyes full of fury, and demand to know the truth he deserved.

"You're right," she managed. "Lance, wait here. Try to read more of the book. I'll be back in a bit."

The next hour was spent choking down a few more pages of the book, gibberish Lance tried to translate into something easier, but it was so hard it took him ten minutes for a four-line paragraph, and even then he had no assurances he was right.

It was a relief when Sana reappeared, clutching several A3 rolls of paper.

"I've been printing some webpages off at the library, Lance," she said. "They're not as informative as the book, but... You should get the general idea. I need to do the washing, I'll see you at tea, okay?"

Lance nodded mutely, and accepted the rolls of paper, watching his mom leave. He shuffled the sheets, cross-legged on his bed, and started to read the first one.

_'A Gifted person, is a person with a certain malfunction in their hormone system that links them to their soulmate, causing them to have more links with their significant other. This is not an illness, and is more a disorder, although not officially classified as one. It causes the Gifted person to dream completely accurately about certain aspects of their soulmate, means they can feel their emotions, pain or exhaustion on a far more extreme level than the norm. The most significant point about their Gift is that while a normal person cannot control their bond, a Gifted person can, willing themselves to try to get a reading of their soulmate even when they have never met them. Obviously, Gifted people cannot see their soulmate, or their soulmate's location, trusting on the natural urge to reconnect to finding their soulmate. The Gift has proven a curse for many people, as it causes them to feel greater anguish and desperation and can lead to severe migraines. The fact that it is labelled as an advantage is also a reason why Gifted people are unpopular, as people desperate for a soulmate find irk in them, thinking they have an easy link when they are probably suffering more than them. One famous case is in Mina Comika, a Gifted woman, who, in 1902, was bullied by another woman for her gift, before discovering that Comika actually was her soulmate. This well-publicised affair helped gain LGBT+ affection, as Comika was a popular woman politician in her country.'_

Lance stared at the page, mouth agape. He had a sneaking feeling that things were fitting in place in his mind, and he didn't like it one bit.

He hurried to check another.

' _A Gifted person is somebody with a very rare hormonal malfunction which develops in the womb, and presents itself in dreams or brain scans, maturing around the ages five to eight. They have a controllable link to their soulmate which sets them apart from the normal society...'_

And a third.

_'A reliable symptom for a child with the Gift is frightening, identical dreams at a young age, which do not tend to make much sense.'_

Lance pushed the papers away from him, and slumped onto his back, staring at the woodchip ceiling of his room like it was the secret of life. His mind raced with unwelcome thoughts.

_I'm like that? I'm... Different._

He closed his eyes in a panic, willing it to all be a dream, and to wake up now. But he knew it wasn't going to happen.

_...a reliable symptom is frightening, identical dreams..._

Dreams like the ones he had every night. Always the same. He always remembered them, like they were his ordeals. Always the same anguish, and gleam of greyish-purple. How he could never stand the loneliness of his room when he felt the after- effect of severe isolation. He didn't want to be alone, but he felt like his soulmate was.

Poor person. He lived through their anguish. Their anguish. It was very much real.

He was overcome with the urge to try to contact them, but he didn't know how to do that. Did he close his eyes? Keep them open? He wanted to try and use his gift. What did he think? Of nothing?

A soft knock on the door shot Lance out of his dreamlike state. Hastening to sit up, he gathered the printed pages beside him, and called: "Come in!"

It was his mother, carrying a tray of spiced soup and bread. She had even put in one of her garlic knots, meaning she was feeling really troubled. Lance liked to think he specified in reading people.

And now it turned out he literally could. With one person. Flashes of whom he saw in his dreams.

"Lancias," she whispered, soft, soothing. "Are you okay?"

Lance wasn't sure how he was meant to be okay presented with this new truth, and didn't say anything as his mother came to sit the tray down on his bed.

"It's new, you're thinking," she insisted. "But it's not really. You've been suffering through this since you were six. It'll get very hard sometimes, but you can handle it. Everyone has a soulmate... Well, nearly everyone. And so what if you're the only Gifted person in school? You don't have to tell anyone, nor do we."

Lance felt like his throat was clapped in iron. He didn't say anything.

"I love you, hijo," she promised. "Your Gift doesn't change that. But I understood you probably wanted to eat alone, up here."

She kissed the top of his head, let down the tray, and left, shutting the door behind her.

Lance hoped she understood he probably couldn't stomach much of the food, either.

-

The night was fitful, and Lance turned madly in an uneasy sleep like there were insects in his shirt.

In lucid dream, he saw what he always did.

The gleam of the purple something, burning with anger and insult and loneliness. The sound of something metal striking stone.

And then, out of nowhere, came the pain, wrought anguish fuelling his cries, aching at his waist like he was being twisted by a giant's crushing hands.

He woke with a screech, the pain still throbbing in his chest, images rippling through his mind.

"Dios mí," he cried, his voice too hoarse to hear. "Adayume, por favor."

He kept babbling in Spanish, and even after the pain was gone, he talked himself into a shaky sleep, where the nightmare was going to return. But he had no choice to surrender.

The pain came back.

-

Over the years, Lance slowly learned to read his book.

It became a sort of Bible for him, helping him ease himself through migraines and nightmares, teaching him to call out to his soulmate - not that they could hear him. It encouraged Lance to buy a notebook to record his dream in - Lance was a good artist, and he remembered the dream perfectly. Using watercolour pencils, he made the lighting perfectly, spending hours carefully recording anything - which wasn't much, to be honest.

He learned to control his Gift, to search for his soulmate whenever he felt stressed. He learned to heal his migraines, which got worse over time. But he was surviving.

And he wanted to live his life to the full, proving his Gift didn't matter. He wanted to get an education, get a job, and meet his soulmate. Preferably in that order. And now he was eighteen, it was time to ask.

"University?" asked his mom, when he did. She rinsed her hands and looked up. "I'm not sure you should, Lance."

"Is this about my Gift?" Lance muttered, angry. "I can control it, Máma, you _know_ I can!"

"Oh, baby, I know, I do," his mother promised, wrapping her arms around him. "I'm just so worried. A lot of people don't accept Gifted people. There's no law to bar you from your full education, but I'm scared something will happen to you. If you wanted to try, you could never tell anyone."

"Why would I?" demanded Lance, pulling away. He had gotten used to bottling up the truth, hiding his Gift from his friends around him. It wouldn't be any different from normal.

"So, can I request an interview?" Lance asked, excited. "I want to study astrophysics. I haven't had a proper eduction since I was thirteen!"

This was true, as his mother had monitored his Gift's maturity constantly, and he had often randomly been pulled out of class on some afternoons for an unwarned brain-scan. It had become so irritating he was pretty used to it.

His mother sighed. She dumped a sieve in the soapy sink, frowning. Then: "Fine. We can look into it. I'm not promising anything, Lance!"

"Thank you, Máma!" he cried, wrapping her in a hug, before running back into his room, and pulling his guide from under his pillow, hearing his mom yell: "And take your pills, I know you're faking them!"

He probably should, to get on her good side.

But later, maybe. Those things were disgusting.

He flicked open the Guide he got when he was thirteen. As he had gotten older, his mind had matured, and now it was so much easier to understand he could laugh out loud. His siblings had never really understood quite how much the Gift impacted him - his migraines, nightmares, checks at the scan clinic and constant refusal to take the bloody stabilising pills. Best was Gabriela and Ricardo, who understood that Lance was different from them, he needed special care. They'd never done anything bad, or asked any awkward questions. He was fond of them, but they'd both gone to uni, Gabriela wanting to design car engines, and Ricardo, become a trigonometry teacher for _some_ reason Lance couldn't explain. He wanted to go to uni too, learn, live. It was his Gift, it blocked his chances and got in the way.

The Guide landed on a page about 'Uncontrollable Readings in Public'. A reading was searching for his soulmate through his telepathic gift - it rendered him blind for a few seconds, and although Lance had pretty much learned to control them, the idea still scared him.

He sighed, tipped the book on his knee, and got comfortable.

That was the rule. Bored? Go read your Guide. Finished homework? Go read your Guide. Just had a reading? Actually, it made sense that his mom made him read about them after that.

One thing that really bothered Lance was the forty-second migraines he got - usually when his body thought he was about to have a reading, but didn't. They were painful and potent, and there was nothing he could do but stand still, whimper, and count the seconds, hoping it would be gone before the minute was up. Once it was so bad he had fainted - around the house, of course. He didn't want people guessing. That was when Lance had realised his father really, really hated his Gift.

"There's nothing you can do about it, Lancias," his mother had whispered urgently. "Go read the Guide, look up tips."

Just go read the bloody guide.

Lance sent out a request for an interview, and, to his great surprise, he got one. It wasn't a particularly famous or monumental one, but it was good-quality, and that was more than he'd been expecting.

What he had been expecting was for them to notice his Gift, but they didn't say a word - thank God.

-

"Lance?"

"Máma?" Lance peered through the crack of his door. What was she doing up so late?

His mother took a deep breath, her eyes crinkling a little.

"You're in."

There was silence.

"Well done."

Lance nodded mutely.

"You can start packing for the start of the semester tomorrow. I'll be at work, so... Oh, Lance, remember your Guide and your notebook and your pills and your exercises and just be _careful, please."_

"I will, Máma," he promised softly.

"There's my little boy," she whispered, pulling him in for a rib-crushing hug. It took her quite a long time to let go.

Lance's soulmate must have been able to feel his happiness, because he didn't remember having any nightmares that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written listening to 'Youth' by Foxes on repeat. I think it influenced this somewhat. Pro writing tip: Shut off your word count, it makes you feel better when you see how much you've done.
> 
> Also: I am English, and not in uni, tell me if anything is written wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance knows he needs friends - to make this work, they're essential. How do you make friends again?

"Uh, kid, you getting out?"

Lance snapped out of his daze to the sound of the bus driver's words. His pale blue eyes blinked at him behind wire-rimmed glasses, expectant.

"Oh, uh, yeah," Lance stammered. He seized his bag and case, and slung his pack over his shoulder. He still couldn't believe this university, his university, was in Arizona. It was far, far from home in Varadero, but it was a shot at something he had thought he'd never get. He wouldn't trade uni for anything.

Standing up, he hurried from the door, painfully aware of the driver's eyes on the back of his neck, suspicious.

And he had all reason to be, because Lance had been trying to stifle a headache from a reading accident a few hours ago.

Don't worry, he told himself. The more you act guilty, the more they'll suspect. Like that bus driver. It's easy to hide, you're used to it.

It was really, really hot - Lance had been raised by the beach in Cuba, and even he was sweating uncomfortably. While the beach promised sand and seawater as blue as a sapphire's eye, this place was clumped with dust. It was more like a prison than any place Lance had ever known, but this was where he had to go. If he wanted a chance, that was.

His head was still pounding. His fingers met the foil packet in his jacket pocket, and he popped a pill out. He didn't want people to see what they were - the brand was a monopoly, and very well-known as being the ones to make medicine for Gifted people. He surreptitiously swallowed a yellowish pill and suppressed a shudder of revulsion. There was a reason he usually refused to take them. Often the pain was stolen from his head to be replaced by nausea from his stomach, and when they're your only option it makes things a little aggravating.

Lance slotted his earphones in his ears and began to walk into the campus, following a crowd of people who had gotten off the bus before him, crowding like a pack of hungry flies.

' _I could have shown you America,_  
All the bright lights of the universe,  
We could have reached the highest heights,  
A different day, a different life.  
Remember that night underneath the stars  
For a minute I thought the world was ours,  
All you had to do was show me love.'

He remembered singing it with his family on the beach late one night. Something like bile rose up in his through and he tugged the still-singing earphones out.

"Hey, you alright?"

Lance jumped so hard, he dropped his iPod on the floor, as a boy came up to him, frowning. His was quite big, taller than Lance, and about twice as wide. His skin was a beautiful colour - rich and reddish-dark, like milky cocoa. His large amber-brown eyes stared warily at Lance, who was trying to gather his composure and fallen earphones at the same time.

"W-What? Oh, yeah, thanks," Lance stammered. This guy's words had been gentle, but it looked like he could beat Lance into the ground.

The other boy's mouth twitched. Then he burst out laughing.

"Calm down, I'm not gonna hurt you!"

"Sorry," Lance muttered, flaring red. "I've never been in the USA before, I don't really understand anything about it."

"You don't really look like you come from the US," the other boy decided. "They're mainly either white or African-American. You don't look like them. Are you Latino?"

"Yeah," Lance said, breathing out. This guy seemed pretty easy to talk to. "I'm here on a student visa so I could go to uni here."

"Dude, same," the other boy agreed. "I'm from Samoa, originally. My name's Hunk."

"Nice to meet you," said Lance, taking his hand. "I'm Lance Sanchez."

"So, are you from Mexico? Brazil?"

"Cuba," Lance corrected, and he didn't miss the way Hunk's face lit up.

"Man, I've always wanted to go there!"

"It's mainly beaches," Lance shrugged, as he and Hunk began to follow the crowd into the campus, amidst the sounds of laughter as friends reunited. "Not very exciting."

"Aw, you just say that 'cause you grew up there," protested Hunk.

They continued this idle chatter signing up and collecting guides, until Hunk said: "Hey, d'you wanna be my roommate?"

He sounded shy, and Lance couldn't blame him, so he nodded. A lot of worse people to wind up with, rather than Hunk.

"Room E-11-B," Hunk recited, glancing at the grey pamphlet emblazoned with orange lettering. "That means East Wing, Eleventh Room, Floor B. Yeah, according to the map it isn't far away."

"Cool," Lance nodded. His hand met the foil packaging in his pocket out of habit, and he wasn't really sure why. "Uh, what program did you sign up for?"

Hunk grunted. "Mechanical engineering. You?"

"Astrophysics," replied Lance. "I don't know what I wanna do after that."

 _If I can do anything at all_.

They trudged on in silence for a while, occasionally pointing out different buildings or people, all homey and happy in their university lives. Lance wondered what it would be like to have a normal life - where the most important and exciting things were exams and finding your soulmate, not trying for a night to not wake up panting in a sea of sweat, your lip bloody from being bitten like it was savaged by a hungry vampire.

He glanced at Hunk. No matter how long he lived, he would never grasp the fact that people couldn't tell he was Gifted just by looking at him.

"Hey." Hunk prodded Lance's arm. "This is us."

He slipped the keys in the lock, twisted, and, with the sound of a back cracking, the door creaked open.

It was a lot better than Lance had been expecting - it was about five metres squared, with two hospital beds on either side of the door, pressed against the wall. The walls were thick with whitewash covered in shrink-wrapped plastic. The carpet was beige and coarse. It didn't really smell of anything - there was just a taste of dust in the air.

"Here we go," said Hunk, whose hand hadn't left the door. "Home sweet home."

Lance dumped his stuff on the bed furthest from the window, and ran his hand up the wooden side table, which accommodated a weary-looking table lamp and drawer for storage. At the end of the bed was a wardrobe - across the hall, almost directly, were that floor's showers.

He tested the material with his hand, but it wasn't bad. Hunk's was the same, apart from he had the window side next to him, where he was already putting note stacks. Lance reached into his backpack and pulled out his Premonition notebook. Premonition was only the brand name, but it was essentially just his actual premonition book, as the signs inside were the future - proof of a person he was yet to meet.

"What's that?"

Lance jumped. "Oh, uh, a diary?" he blushed. "A journal. Not a diary. A journal."

"Dude, it's okay," Hunk laughed, and returned to his arranging.

Lance dumped his clothes messily in his wardrobe - he'd regret that later - stuffed his pills and facecare in his drawer, made his bed, then, after a moment, hid his Guide and premonition book in a cloth bag under his mattress. He didn't dare - he couldn't stand it - if someone found out - even Hunk -

He realised he was sweating, and rubbed his forehead with the sleeve of his olive jacket, leaving a dark smear of water on the cuff. He grimaced. That better come off soon.

"What time is it?" He nearly said it in Spanish - he better get used to English-speaking Arizona soon enough.

"Nearly time for dinner, if you wanna go buy it from the cafeteria," Hunk replied. "It's pretty foul, apparently, but the café isn't too bad. Katie says it has great coffee. For god's sake, she doesn't even go here!" He laughed.

"Katie?" Lance asked. "Is she your soulmate?"

He didn't know how his mind made that connection, and blushed, but Hunk just laughed again.

"Nah, she's a friend. Her older brother comes here - top year. She hangs around the cafe and programs stuff. But I do know who my soulmate is," he added, wriggling his eyebrows mysteriously. "Maybe we could go to her studio later for dinner. I already messaged her about you."

"Sounds exciting," Lance agreed. "Sure."

"What about you?" asked Hunk. "Do you know your soulmate?"

"Nah," Lance sighed. "I haven't a clue. I guess I'll find out what happens one day."

"You know," Hunk said, looking interested, "most people connect and find their soulmates in college."

Lance gave a weak smile. "Hope I'll get lucky."

_Hope it's not a boy._

If they were, that would be the end. His father ruled the house, and he didn't believe that somebody could be soulmates with somebody the same gender as them. It just wasn't possible.

It was perfectly possible. Then again, this was a man who probably hadn't noticed his son had an incredibly rare Gift. He never paid attention to them.

"Hunk," he found himself saying, "would it matter to you if I told you I was prone to nightmares?"

Hunk looked surprised. "No, not really," he said. "I always found it hard to sleep, I started taking sleeping pills."

Thank god. "Just warning you," Lance added. "I realised I had to tell you. You sure you're okay?"

"Absolutely."

Lance let out a breath of air. One problem checked off.

* * *

 

"So, you're Lance, huh?"

Hunk had dragged Lance to the cafe to meet with two girls, saying: "If you want to be my friend, will you at least introduce yourself?"

And now they both stared at him.

One of them was tall and broad, a little like Hunk, to be honest. Her skin was an attractive olive colour, her bottom eyelashes were longer than the ones on the top lid, and a weird dark puce in colour. Her hair was dark and short, cut perfectly straight to the middle of her earlobes. A pair of silver hoop earrings hung from her ears. She might have looked a little strange, her arms a little too long for her body, but she seemed friendly. She introduced herself as Shay Balmera.

The other girl looked a little like the child of a Cacausian human and a coffee gremlin. Her hair was a lot longer than Shay's, tied in a high ponytail, and the colour of hot-choclate foam or nutmeg. Her eyes were huge, and a brassy colour. Her nails were wrecked, her ears unpierced. She looked two or three years younger than Lance and Hunk, and she clutched at the coffee cup as if she'd die if she let go. She eyed Lance warily as he sat down.

"What can I get you guys?" Hunk asked, taking out his phone to make notes.

"One coffee, regular," the coffee gremlin replied instantaneously.

Lance glanced at her. "You don't seem like the kind of girl to just drink regular café."

"No," Hunk corrected. "She means her regular. Namely, a black coffee so strong she can't function properly."

"It brings me back to good times," the girl agreed. "The nineteen-eighties, for example."

"What's coffee got to do with the eighties? You weren't even alive then!"

"My point proven!" She leant towards Lance. "And what'll it be for you, Sanchez?"

Lance briefly wondered how she knew his name, and then remembered that Hunk had probably told her. "Uh, café cocoa, please. Hunk, I can pay -"

"Nonsense," Hunk chided. "And what'll it be for you, flower?"

"The normal herbal tea, please, honey," Shay replied. Hunk nodded, and progressed to the counter. The coffee gremlin grinned at Lance.

" _Flower_ ," she half-grimaced. " _Honey_. Those two are so soft -"

"I'm right here, Katie," Shay sighed. "Although, I guess that was to be expected."

The girl grinned and wiggled her eyebrows. Lance wondered what went through her mind in the absence of her friends.

"Lance, this is Katie," Shay said. Her tone said, _just humour her._

"So your name is really Lance?" Katie sniggered. "Why'd your parents name you after a spear?"

"It comes from Lancias," Lance muttered. He was supposed to be able to sense his soulmate, not his bane, but he could already tell that this girl was going to drive him crazy.

Hunk came back, clutching a groaning tray, piled with an attractive-smelling teapot, a pearly white coffee cup, a tall hot chocolate glass, and a bottle of fizzing water, along with four blueberry muffins. He set out the drinks and muffins on napkins, returned the tray, and sat down. Lance hadn't touched his food. It had seemed impolite to start without Hunk.

"Tuck in!" Hunk prompted. Katie instantly grabbed at her muffin and began snarfing it down. Lance shuddered. How did something this small eat something so fast?

"Y'know, Pidge," Hunk said absently, "you should try moving back into Matt's apartment."

"I'm already living there, though," protested Katie, in between mouthfuls of muffin meat.

"Which is my point," Hunk said. "Get out of the cafe and start scrounging off your brother. You know, healthier stuff? Lower the coffee levels? Dare I say it - sleep? There's plenty of room, now Shirogane's moved out. Why'd he do that again?"

"His brother arrived this year," said Pidge, her mouth now free of food. "Decided he wanted to stay with him. Not enough room for him in the apartment, so he used his privileges to get another apartment."

Lance sank down in his chair, taking a nibble of muffin, and instantly regretting not starting on it sooner. His mouth filled with hot, sugar flavours, and he quickly ate it all while Hunk and Katie continued to chew at each other. When he was done, and both of them were vaguely quiet, he said: "Hunk, I thought that this place was only average?"

"It is."

"But this muffin's freaking _sabarosas_ ," Lance protested. "Way better than the ones in the bakery back in Varadero."

Katie sniggered. "It would be, amateur. Hunk baked it."

"It's a pastime!" Hunk cried. "I'm not trying to be different, I just love cooking!"

"Dude," Lance said, "you're like a younger, Samoan Mary Berry."

They all laughed at that. Lance noticed Shay's laugh sounded like bells.

"Okay, then," Katie challenged him. "Who am I, if Hunk's like Mary Berry?"

"Well, Katie," Lance said matter-of-factly, after a pause. "I don't know too much about you, but if you can run as fast as you eat, you'll leave Usain Bolt wailing at the start line."

There was a beat. Then they all started to laugh, pure and so genuine it made Lance's heart beat a little harder than normal.

Lance hadn't laughed like this with people his age for a long time. 

* * *

"That was fun, wasn't it?" Lance said to Hunk as they returned to their room. He waved his hands energetically - maybe it wasn't the best idea to drink coffee at half-nine in the evening. "Admit it, I'm funny."

"You are very funny," Hunk admitted. "I haven't seen Pidge laugh like that in a long time."

"Pidge?" Lance asked. "That's Katie, right?"

"Yeah. A kind of nickname from her brother. It just rubbed off on me, eventually," Hunk said, clicking the door open and switching on the light. The glare of light made Lance's eyes water in protest, he felt like a hangover victim. Ugh. Was that stuff coffee or alcohol?

The last words of the day were 'night, Lance', and the sound of Hunk shuffling around the apartment.

Adrenaline crash.

Lance flopped onto his bed, wriggled out of his shoes and jacket, and curled into the foetal position, before softly falling asleep. Hunk gazed at him with sad amusement.

He wondered if Lance would wake up screaming.

* * *

  
Panting, not screaming. Hunk had judged only slightly wrong.

Lance rolled over onto his back, groaning. Dimly, he felt the rough scratch of denim on his legs. _Ugh_. Had he fallen asleep in his jeans?

He was soaked in sweat. Lance didn't sleep under duvets anymore.

He recalled his dream, willing for it to present more than the usual colour and sounds and aching pain - but nothing new occurred. Muttering rudely, he flipped on his watch, the colours lighting up.

3:45am.

Huh. Asleep for almost five hours. That was a first.

He curled up again, willing his body to pass into sleep again, but his mind raced.

This connection was going to drive him to insanity.

People were so attracted to their soulmates that they eventually just met, one way or another, and usually just found their own ways to fall in love. Lance didn't have that option, but his soulmate did.

Was it possible they were in his uni? Or had they come and gone in his schools? Had they been one of his friends, and their chances at love broken by the bloody scans?

Was the pain there because he'd never meet them?

Lance's mind flashed to him at fifty-five, grumpy and sad and alone. Hunk and Shay settled. Katie with her soulmate, happy as could be. Lance still waiting.

The idea made him feel sick.

He rolled over again, his face staring stubbornly at the shiny wall.

I'm already in love with someone, he thought. But what about them?

And it was definite 'them' for a pronoun - Lance knew full well that they could easily be a boy as well as a girl, or another gender. Lance dreaded the idea. Boys were just as good as girls, but he didn't have the guts to tell his father. If his soulmate wasn't female, he would be kicked out. Plain and simple. And then where would he go?

"I love you," he whispered. He wasn't sure who to.

Now, sleep. He closed his watery blue eyes, and tried to relax his body.

_It'll be okay._

A deep breath.

_I'll be okay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't care if Voltron writers say Lance is straight, this is where I'm going, I have IDEAS.
> 
> Song is one of my favs, I thought it would fit: America by the Wanted. IT'S THE PERFECT KLANGST SONG EVER LISTEN TO IT AND SEE THE CONNECTION


	4. NOTE

HAHA I HAVE NO CONTROL

I don't like how short the chapters are, so I'm redoing this. Also, I lost an 8k word sheet from messing up iCloud, which left me pretty steamed. You have to wait for some more updates!

Sorry for that :)

**Author's Note:**

> Talk Voltron to me at www.jasminephobia.tumblr.com


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